


foreigner in my own head

by caffeineforum



Series: pitfalls: a morally-skewed guide to surviving the apocalypse [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Blood and Violence, Depression, Hwang Hyunjin is a Mess, Hwang Hyunjin-centric, M/M, Mentioned Stray Kids Ensemble, Mentioned WayV Ensemble, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Not Beta Read, READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BEGINNING!!! DO IT, Seo Changbin is Whipped, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeineforum/pseuds/caffeineforum
Summary: Hyunjin is a notorious survivor-killer, until he finally reaches his limit.Luckily, a stranger named Changbin is willing to help him put himself back together.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Seo Changbin
Series: pitfalls: a morally-skewed guide to surviving the apocalypse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111451
Comments: 7
Kudos: 62





	foreigner in my own head

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT WARNING!  
> Hyunjin commits an explicit group murder.  
> If you'd like to skip, it starts a paragraph after Lucas says: “You might have heard something even if I didn’t. I was… distracted. I’ll go look," and it ends at the cut that reads: "Is there any chance of recreation, of what I used to feel?"  
> The scene involves decapitation and head trauma specifically. 
> 
> -
> 
> Hi, hello, I have no idea WHY I wrote this but my NCTzen friend is very mad at me. This is just going to be a series I work on whenever I have writer's block, which I'm steeped in right now.  
> I've been reading The Prince by Machiavelli for my class, and I think I've taken "Ouji Hyunjin" down a different path, hehe
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

▬▬

The hill Hyunjin will die on has eyes, and is a very lonely place. There’s no grass, no trees, no flowers--nothing but soil and dust, matted with blood. Not even poppies grow.

“What the _fuck_ are you _doing_ ?!” he shrieks, kicking blindly at the two men dragging him along the dirt. They’re strong, and he can’t wrench his arms away from them. He can see the rest of their group up ahead, in a parking lot, and knows he has no chance of survival if they make it there. He doesn’t even care if his shouting attracts unwanted attention. “My name is Jeongin! _Jeong-in_ , you’ve got the wrong fucking guy!”

“Not taking our chances with you.” The one to his left jerks his arm painfully, off-setting his footing and causing his knee to scrap the pavement. The fabric of his pants rips and the skin burns where just the surface was lightly scraped, picking up bits of rock and shards of asphalt. 

“I’m _flattered_ you think I’m pretty enough to be The Prince,” he winces at the non-consensual stretching of his muscles and skin, “really, _I am_. But I have a fucking group waiting for me on the other side of town.”

He’s going to die. He’s going to die here. Tossed as undead bait after, likely. Beheaded then torn to shreds. You don’t fuck around when killing someone else, much less a monster. And he’s sure by now he’s considered more of a monster than a person. 

Mercy isn’t an option for him if he doesn’t hurry up and turn this around.

“Oh really?” This time, it’s the one on his right. If Hyunjin remembers correctly, his name is something English-sounding. “What are their names?”

“Bang Chan, Minho, Felix,” Hyunjin recites immediately. He keeps a close eye on their faces, and there’s no emerging smirks or wide eyes, meaning he’s in the clear. Some gambles pay off; they actually stop in their tracks. “And if you kill me they’re going to make you fucking _wish_ The Prince got you instead.”

He can barely see through his overgrown bangs falling into his eyes, soaked in sweat, but he can tell their expressions soften a little. He forces some extra tears forward and blinks at the left one, who’s a little skinnier, a little softer in the face. Prays he looks pathetic enough, because at least if he dies he wants it to be a decent, meaningful death. Not an execution by people who might not survive a day after.

“I don’t want to die, man,” he says with a shaky breath. It’s not a lie. “Please just let me go back to them. I’m not a murderer. I’m a _scout_ , for fuck’s sake. _Please_ just let me go back to my friends.”

“What do you think?” Guy-on-the-Left says to his friend, not breaking eye contact with Hyunjin.

“I think he’s actually telling the truth,” is Guy-on-the-Right’s surprising response. It makes his heart pound, knowing he’s won. Times like this really go a long way to prove that acting lessons weren’t as useless as adults made them out to be when he was younger. “What did you say your story was again?”

“I’m the scout for my group. I’m alone right now because we just got to town and they sent me to scout for food supply and hordes for a day or two. And I didn’t kill the body you saw me with, they probably just killed themselves or something--I was just looking for supplies on them. They were already dead. Please...”

He delivers his lines with all the charisma and shakiness he can muster, head lowered and trembling as if he’s expecting to be thrown on the ground and shot right then and there. But he knows he’s won already. They pity him; they’re second-guessing themselves. That’s all he needs. And he’s tempted to think they’re idiots for trusting his word, but they’re not. They snuffed him out immediately because he’s the fool, and now he’s just clawing his way up from the hole he dug himself into. All in a day’s work.

“I think I believe him.”

“I do, too.”

Carefully, they loosen their grips and each use both of their arms to help him back up. As soon as he’s standing, Hyunjin breaks out into real, muffled sobs and sinks back down to the pavement, knees curled up to his chest. They’d be loud, if not for the dirtied sleeve he bites into, and the fabric of his pants so close it brushes up against his nose and forces him to smell the sourness he’ll never get used to. 

For once, he finds himself not faking his sadness. 

They were genuinely going to kill him. 

He’s taken a group or two head-on before in waking hours, but their grips weren’t faltering any time soon. Even if they did, his only option would be to run, and they knew what he looked like. Word would spread fast, and he’d be hunted and shot with no hesitation, like a rabid mutt. 

But…. _he’s alive_. Pathetically crying, but alive. And he has another chance.

“Hey, look, we’re _sorry_ man,” Guy-on-the-Right says and kneels in front of him. “We just freaked, we’re sorry. I mean, you know the rumours, and it looked suspicious and we just--we freaked the hell out. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I know the rumours, I do...” Hyunjin sniffles, and wipes his tears. Looking up, he’s met with wide, sympathetic eyes. The dude is buff, sort-of like how Hyunjin remembers Chan being, but not nearly as short. “...Wait, does that mean The Prince is _here_? In this city?”

Not-Chan, as he’s now dubbed, shrugs and looks back towards his group. The other dude already ran over, and seems to be explaining what just happened. He’s making wild gestures towards them, five eyes following the direction of his fingers with curiosity. “He might still be, we’re not sure. We got here a few nights ago and found a slaughtered group near the shopping mall. Four girls, throats all slit, no supplies on them. And it had to be fresh otherwise the undead would have eaten them already.”

“Fuck, I should hurry back,” Hyunjin fake-gasps and stands up abruptly. “And, be safe, okay? You… you did the right thing, too, for your group… so don’t be sorry, okay?"

“Stay safe, too. I’m Lucas, by the way.” He smiles and extends his hand, nodding up towards the sky. It’s slowly turning orange. “Actually, wait… It’s going to get dark really soon, though. You said your group sends you out for a while, yeah? So it’s okay if you crash with us? We owe you for all of… that.”

“I couldn’t impose-”

“It’s not imposing,” Lucas quickly says, and Hyunjin can’t help but notice there’s a blush on his cheeks. Suddenly, he won’t even meet Hyunjin’s eyes anymore. “Look, we treated you like shit, and it’s better if you don’t have to wait a whole day to eat and disinfect all those cuts. Seriously, we _owe_ you. And hey, rare treat- we’ve got salt pork on the menu tonight.”

He sputters a little towards the end, and Hyunjin’s mind draws its immediate conclusion.

_A crush_. Lucas has a crush on him. The hot tension is like second-nature to Hyunjin now, and he wonders what course of action he’ll take. Play along for a while to have some security, feigning he can’t find his other group, or work his magic tonight?

Decisions, decisions.

Hyunjin blinks at Lucas with calculated disbelief, before smiling shyly to match the way the other is blushing. “Um… you know what, that sounds nice, actually…”

And nice it is. They’re one of the nicer groups Hyunjin’s nuzzled up with in… well, he can’t remember how long, since it’s getting harder to find groups in the first place.

His heart slumps as he’s introduced as Jeongin to a group of Chinese men, all of them foreign-exchange students that got stuck in Korea when the apocalypse began. They’re all polite, bowing with deep apologies to Hyunjin for assuming the worst of him and doting on his every need. The one named Xiaojun throws a blanket over his shoulders after they finish barricading up a gas station and convenience store hybrid. “I’ve been falsely accused of being him, too,” he admits. Makes sense. He’s handsome with a lilting, pretty voice. “It’s terrifying. I was lucky Kun, our leader--the one in the pink hoodie there?--was around the corner.”

The sun sets below the tall buildings, and they ask him what his own group is like. They listen to his stories of how protective Bang Chan is, all of his selflessness and how he seemingly has every skill under the sun. Minho, who is deathly smart and cunning and yet so sweet underneath his hard exterior. And Felix, Minho’s polar opposite, who comes across like sugar and spice, but is their most nimble and tactile--also, a great cook.

“I’m a good enough scout, I think,” Hyunjin says as he pictures Jeongin in his mind. “I’m really quiet, usually… I guess… and I’m really good at just finding things. I’m not really as impressive as the others, but…”

It’s a lie, Jeongin was always impressive. But Hyunjin needs to play it soft, like he’s humble little Jeongin himself, never giving himself enough credit. The seven new boys all coo and tell him he’s likely fantastic if his group trusts him to go out for two days and come back safe with information and supplies. 

Even if he could tell them the truth, he wouldn’t. It hurts too much.

True to Lucas’ word, they have salt pork. Salt pork and rice, and Hyunjin nearly cries because it’s so simple and yet so much more flavourful than what he’s been forcing himself to settle on these last couple of months. He even notices Lucas putting some of his own portion onto Hyunjin’s plate, softly gazing at him like he’s just found the shiniest thing he wants to protect. It makes him pause and wonder if he could pretend to lose his group just to come back and have security here, and friendship, and whatever Lucas has to offer him with those widened eyes.

It’s been so fucking long since he’s had anyone.

But that’s just not optimal. A quick gaze at their stashes when the youngest of them, Yangyang, shows him where to find stuff if he needs it, is about two-weeks worth for all of them with surplus for emergencies. Say that’s for eight people, for two weeks. If he gets it all back to his current apartment in the night, with his own stash, he won’t have to leave for two whole months, or even more. And he’ll have plenty to keep him alive while he transfers to a new location. Unless he manages to get another group or two here sometime, in which case he might be set for all of winter.

That would be… nicer than he’d like to admit. Settling in, like everything’s back to normal and he’s just a homebody avoiding the clubs and parties. Maybe he’ll study something, in that time.

“You guys keep books?” he asks as Yangyang opens a small box, revealing five novels.

“Xiaojun loves to read. He keeps five novels at a time,” Yangyang explains. Hyunjin found out he’s younger than himself and Felix, and ever since then he’s felt guilt crawling up higher as the sun grows fainter. “Every time he finishes one or two he tosses them, or keeps them in his bag if it’s a new favorite. And he replaces it with another one he finds while we scavenge.”

“That’s cool,” is all Hyunjin says, before he lets out a yawn.

The way they organize it, Lucas is taking the first watch. In fact, he insists upon it, unknowingly making everything so much easier for Hyunjin. 

For the first hour, Hyunjin formulates his plan. Does he risk luring Lucas away and waking the others up? How will he keep Lucas quiet? How does he deal with the rest of them? He’s more used to groups of five or less, not seven, but the marginal difficulty can’t be too high if he kills in the right order. So he thinks of how they all described themselves, who the biggest threats are.

Oh, what to do?

“Lucas,” he whispers and rolls around. “I don’t think I can sleep…”

Quickly, the older shuffles over and kneels over Hyunjin. There isn’t total darkness, a few flickering candles around the group light up the concern on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about my group…” he whimpers as he sits up. “I can’t stop thinking, what if they’re already murdered and I’m the only survivor? Because I left for too long?”

“Oh, Hyunjin… can I hold you?” Lucas asks and holds out his arms. In an instant, Hyunjin is flying into him, and quickly realizes his arms are exactly like Chan’s. He’s warm like Chan. He’s empathetic and kind and everything Hyunjin misses so fucking much. It’s overwhelming, but he buries himself into it because it’s the closest thing he’s had to his friends in so fucking long. “From the way you described your group, I think they’ll be fine. That Minho guy sounds like he wouldn’t even let The Prince _think_ about hurting anyone.”

“You’re right,” Hyunjin forcibly chuckles. “He wouldn’t… he really wouldn’t…”

Over the older boy’s shoulder, Hyunjin memorizes the distance between each sleeping bag, and the way each boy’s head is tilted. Most are flat on their backs, and Xiaojun and Yangyang are positioned the very furthest from him, with the leader named Kun the closest. Perfect.

“Tomorrow, we’ll get you back to them safe and sound. Promise.” Lucas sounds so sweet and Hyunjin, much like he felt with Yangyang, feels so much guilt threatening to burst from his throat into an acrid lump of mush on the floor. It’s not like when he just stumbles on a group and gets rid of them. He gets attached so easily, it’s stupid.

“Okay- _wait_ , hold on.” He stops suddenly and looks towards the back end of the store. “Did you hear that…?”

Lucas goes on high alert, gripping the baseball bat next to him immediately. “Hear what?” he breathes, eyes narrowing in towards the back room. 

“I thought I heard something in the back. Maybe I’m just going crazy, I haven’t slept in like, a whole day…” Hyunjin says with a giggle. Lucas presses a finger over his mouth, and he shuts up so quickly it’s embarrassing. 

“Hey, don’t doubt your senses. It’s better to be alert,” Lucas reprimands him. “You might have heard something even if I didn’t. I was… distracted. I’ll go look.”

Hyunjin doesn’t have to see the blush to know it’s there, and watches with a trained eye as Lucas moves past all the rearranged shelves towards the back end of the store. He’s constantly moving, slowly and almost elegantly, unravelling from his sleeping bag silently while the older foolishly walks away. The shoe-clad footsteps overpower any slight noise Hyunjin makes, and he’s so glad the floor is swept enough for him to go sock-only. 

As soon as Lucas is around the bend of the two rows blocking the doorway, Hyunjin is on top of Kun. Long, deadly knife pulled from the worn leather sheath Felix had sewn for him. Without touching the leader, he forces the heavily-sharpened blade through his neck, and murders him without enough remorse to hesitate.

The opening of the door muffles the slight crunch of bone that Hyunjin’s never quite been able to eliminate no matter how much he sharpens the knife, or how much force and precision goes into the cut.

He never goes all the way through, for risk of the knife making a sound against the floor. Kun’s head is left hanging on, but his airways and jugular are split. He’s dead immediately. Blood gushes first in spurts, then in a rapid and steady stream. Vile.

Hyunjin’s best quality is that he’s fast. He keeps his eyes trained on where Lucas is inspecting what must be a nook-and-cranny filled back room for a gas station this large. All the while he hops from one sleeping bag to another. Position, push, kill. _Position, push, kill._ Heads might not roll but throats are indeed slit, and the blood flows across the floor like springs of water.

His socks manage to stay dry without any effort. It comes with practice.

By the time he has a chance to pause after finishing the job on Yangyang, victim number six, he hears footsteps approaching from the very, very back of the other room. He slides into his sneakers, knowing he has enough time with the slow pace Lucas is taking, and scurries on his squeakless tip-toes over to the back room, knife left on his sleeping bag.

He hides his bloodied hand, the one that was pressed down on the blade, in his jacket. And with it, grips his HK45.

Lucas is about two meters from the door when Hyunjin walks in. He looks surprised. “You were taking a while, I got paranoid…” he quickly mutters, rushing over to rest his head on Lucas’ chest with a fake shiver. “And it’s really cold.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lucas says as he wraps his arms around Hyunjin. “There was a knocked over box. I guess it fell over and that’s what you heard?”

“Probably,” Hyunjin chuckles. He indulges himself and nuzzles into the warmth, imagining it’s his leader. “Thank you for checking. Is there anything good back here to grab? I looked outside while you were gone to make sure, and it’s clear for at least a hundred or two meters all around.”

“There’s jugs of gas we could load into the van in the back,” Lucas says. “I was gonna wait ‘til morning to grab ‘em, but since it’s clear and you can’t sleep, want to get ‘em now?”

“Sure, why not?”

With that, they unravel themselves and move deeper into the back room, Lucas leading. Hyunjin wonders how someone can be so trusting. How _all_ of them were so trusting, to sleep near him and feed him and now to just take his word for the area being clear. Maybe the way Lucas looks at Hyunjin like he’s the most precious man in the world is fully responsible for that last one, though, he can’t remember anyone else trusting him _quite_ that much.

“I was thinking about The Prince, since earlier” he mumbles, trailing slightly behind. He practically glares at Lucas, trying to read his reaction. “I wonder if he likes killing or if he’s just desperate.”

“He likes it. If someone’s really just desperate, they can steal or ask for help,” Lucas is quick to reply. “I mean, he’s named The Prince for a reason. Have you ever read Machiavelli? I heard that’s where he got the name. I can’t remember what the proof of that was, though, I just remember that being the gist of what this one dude at a stop told me.”

“Yeah, I know it. I took a philosophy class once and it was one of the readings,” Hyunjin says noncommittally. He pulls out his HK45 and points the barrel, extended with a suppressor, towards Lucas’ head. Both hands, because kick back is a bitch and aiming is more difficult in just the moonlight. He mouths a gentle, _“I’m sorry.”_

He wonders where his copy of _The Prince_ ended up. He’d like to read it again, pretend like he’s still a student doing analysis after analysis and essay after essay. Really, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for life to go back to what it was. 

“You’re right, by the way. That’s where I got the nickname,” he unlocks the safety and speaks rapidly, “I’m really sorry, you shouldn’t have believed me, _I’m sorry_.”

Lucas freezes and whips around, staring in shock and Hyunjin’s drawn gun that’s already good to fire any moment. He’s already made the mistake of standing still. Moving targets, even if just walking, are harder to hit.

Hyunjin fumbles when they lock eyes and he shoots for the chest by accident instead of the head, nailing a lung with one of his bullets. The look of betrayal across Lucas’ face, the look of pure pain and breathlessness as he stumbles backwards onto the floor, makes Hyunjin start crying. No sobs, no heavy breaths. Just fast, warm tears. 

He just shot that chest. That warm, comforting chest. He shot someone who felt so much like Chan, who hugged just like him, whose arms are as safe and strong-

“I made a promise,” he croaks, and puts his gun back on safety before he drops it. He grabs a gas bottle from next to Lucas, who sputters and weakly tries to gasp for air through the puncture and the shock. For a second, he tries to crawl backwards, but slumps. Realization flickers in his eyes--he can’t live with a bleeding hole in his lung even if he fights back. “I’m so sorry--I didn’t want to kill you guys but I _don’t have a choice._ ”

Forty-five kilograms. A hundred pounds. Hyunjin stands over Lucas, shaking and terrified Lucas, like he did all the others. This time, he crashes his knees down onto the floor next to the older boy’s hips, dropping all his weight. 

The gas bottle comes barreling down onto Lucas’ skull. The echoing ring that sounds like a gong is sickeningly loud, so close to his ears. Hyunjin wasn’t fast enough to make it fully crack and cave in, so he raises his arms and drops the bottle down again. It strains, it hurts his muscles.

A gunshot and two smashes later, all in the span of a mere minute, he doesn’t recognize Lucas’ corpse. 

Once again, he’s all alone in the dark.

  
  


▬▬ **_is there any chance of recreation, of what i used to feel?_ **

  
  


So, Hyunjin can survive until winter. That’s nice, he supposes. 

Lucas’ group made a nice distraction for the undead while he loaded up the van abandoned in the back with gas and supplies. He’s glad he couldn’t really tell what Lucas’ face was after a day, having it completely erased. All he remembers is the warmth of his embrace, and so he pretends he met Chan by coincidence and they were only separated because of an undead gathering that forced them to run two different ways. 

Yeah, _that’s_ what happened.

The apartment he picked is three stories up from the ground. Not too high to slow down a necessary escape, not high up enough that the undead or other survivors could find him easily. It’s a quaint place, furnished in a grandmotherly way and it was dusty when he first arrived, but cleaning supplies are around. There was originally a weird smell on the couch.

He supposes an elderly woman died peacefully here, and a relative went to move the corpse somewhere, only to not make it back. That’s the only explanation for why it was locked and untouched when he arrived.

There’s even electricity, Hyunjin found out when he checked out the roof and saw a few solar panels. It’s a finicky thing, not always working because there’s been no maintenance, but Hyunjin doesn’t have to set up a hyper-controlled fire to cook all the time.

_“Minho would like it here,”_ he thought. He still thinks that. There’s two bedrooms and a nice couch, the five of them could have been comfortable even if a bit cramped. _“He’d have called it home.”_

He hasn’t gotten a clue of their whereabouts in the city yet, but he doubts they’re still here. If they’ve heard of survivors being murdered, they’d only stick around if they somehow knew it was Hyunjin. And he doesn’t know if they’d consider him as a candidate for that position. Maybe they would, if they remembered his promise when they were wrenched apart. Even then there’s no certainty. Without a physical description besides “allegedly handsome” to go off of, they’re better off running from the murders. 

Still… Hyunjin’s lonely. He wants Felix’s cooking on the stove, and Minho’s remarks, and Chan’s hugs, and Jeongin’s wit.

He perches himself on the balcony with one of the books he took from Xiaojun’s box--a small book about astronomy, simplified for general readers. He likes it, the concept is cute and educational and reminds him that there was a whole world everyone was learning about before it all came crashing down. It reminds him of university, which feels like such a distant memory even though it really isn’t.

Is it September? Maybe. The heat is due to subside soon and the slight decline is noticeable. Winter is a terrifying reality. The first was horrible, and he isn’t sure how he made it through with a group, and now that he’s alone, death seems more imminent. A few more groups and he’ll be able to secure himself for the rest of fall and all of winter. He’s gotten exceptionally good at hoarding, if he says so himself.

Ignoring his reading for a moment, he scans the view of the city he has from between the railing bars, so he can stay just slightly less visible to wandering eyes. No one looks up, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. The city streets are wide and snake-like. He’s in the heart of downtown, which isn’t saying much for a run-down mining and forestry city that sprawls lazily across a large area, content to keep population density low. He’s overlooking what used to be a street of a convenience store, a tea shop, a few banks, and maybe a couple of clothing stores. Nothing fancy.

A singular, stray undead walks down the middle of the road. Every few steps it falls, and takes a while to get back up. They’re not what they were this time last year, when they were terrifyingly fast and masking your scent and noises at every turn was damn near your only hope if you were anything less than a mediocre fighter. But people have died, been eaten, and the massacre has been relatively mutual. You’ll get the odd recently-fed creature, but one is easy enough to handle.

He’s seen a few of them cannibalize in order to stay alive. It’s depressing, he thinks. How this is their extinction, their last stretch of history, and it’s peaceful in its own way. Humanity inevitably leaves as insignificantly as it started, nothing more than ambivalent catastrophes roaming the world without a collective purpose.

Maybe by now, that’s all his friends are. 

His weekly existential considerations are interrupted, though, by the sound of footsteps echoing off the pavement. And when he squints, he sees a figure blazing down the road with two running corpses close on his tail. Undead that can run are good for no one, especially not Hyunjin, so he grabs his rifle he keeps on the balcony for good measure and stands up. He’s collected enough ammo from dealers in previous cities, no harm in using some.

Leisurely, he checks the suppressor is on tight and plays with the scope, all the while the figure--seems to be a man, of sorts--gets closer. They’re impressive, Hyunjin will give them that, using poles and discarded vehicles to put some distance between themself and the monsters.

There’s a truck coming up, and the monsters are closer to the left side. Hyunjin positions his scope to center on the bumper while the person expertly scales the back on the truck and hops over. Faster than they would’ve been going around. No wonder this person has lived this long, they must have been an athlete prior.

When the runners come around the truck, Hyunjin manages to nail one in the head. The other quickly trips over its corpse, and he gets that one too. The kick against his shoulder gets his heart pumping. Likely not as much as the person he just saved, though, as they continue to run.

Hyunjin does them a favor and wastes a bullet to shoot a vehicle they pass by, causing them to freeze. They brace themselves and whip around with what looks to be a pair of… nunchucks? Interesting. But nothing happens, and it takes them a second to notice that the two undead they’d be running from are slumped over each other several dozen meters back. 

They’re buff. Short and muscular, with no business being as fast as they are with how broad their proportions are. They’re weakly dressed for the oncoming evening cold draft, but it gives great perspective on their marked-up and muscular arms that Hyunjin isn’t ashamed to admit are very attractive. He seems to be meeting a lot of hot, muscular men lately. This one drops their hands to their knees and gasps for air.

Near-death experience. Couldn’t have been fun. Hyunjin was just in one the other day, he could probably guess how this poor soul is feeling.

Said poor soul looks up to where they think the bullet was shot from, and guesses right. If they’re making eye contact, it’s hard to tell, but Hyunjin salutes at them before he safety-locks his rifle. The person salutes back, then points to themself and then towards the apartment building. Hyunjin tilts his head and shakes it, not quite understanding what he wants but understanding the gist of it, and no. _Big, fat, no_. They don’t seem to actually care about his answer and shrugs, headed in the direction of the apartment building.

Maybe they _wanted_ to die. Hyunjin won’t judge; even he wants to die sometimes.

He unlocks his door, hooks all the chains back, and steps outside with his gun hanging lazily down from his right hand, in plain sight. They’re fast and strong--knife is out of the question if it comes down to Hyunjin killing them. Which is probably what will happen. Singular person holed away in an apartment? Yeah, a reasonable person wouldn’t take their chances.

Eventually, someone emerges from the stairwell, and Hyunjin’s quick to run through all the identifiers. Male. Shorter than average. Broad and muscular. Sharp, narrow jaw and chin line. Thick nose and fluffy bangs--somehow similar to the colour of latte. It isn’t too often he sees someone like himself with anything but natural black hair.

“Hey,” he says with a wave, and his voice is soft and… crunchy? His vocal fry is slightly prominent despite the airiness of his tone. It’s unusual, like his hair, and Hyunjin finds himself a little fond of it. “Thanks for that, you alone?”

As he gets closer, he notices the gun in Hyunjin’s hand, and freezes. 

“Hey, look, I know you saw me alone but I _promise_ I’m not going around killing people,” he chuckles, lifting his arms up nervously. Sometimes, it shocks Hyunjin just how much of a reputation he has and how every survivor seems to know, but it’s a small country. Word is bound to travel. “I have a group, actually, I was just coming up here to thank you. And that I think I owe you _big time_ for the bullets. Those can’t be cheap--oh, I’m Changbin, by the way.”

That’s the second time someone this week has said they owe Hyunjin. Something about that makes him want to cry.

But… Changbin... It’s a nice name. If Hyunjin ignores the second half of it, he can almost pretend it’s Chan. Also for the second time this week. That makes him want to cry, too.

“You think you owe me?” Hyunjin raises a brow at that, and looks over Changbin’s face for any semblance of lying. He seems like an honest person, though, and uncharacteristically bright. “You would’ve been fine even if I didn’t help. You were getting good distance. A little high ground and it’d be a piece of cake.”

“I can only sprint for so long, though. Trust me, you saved my whole ass.” He’s so insistent, and nice, too. Hyunjin is starting to feel too guilty about the people he runs into, and that’s a problem he’s getting a little too comfortable with pushing aside. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Hyunjin,” he mumbles, looking down, before he can remember to lie. He can’t do it. He’s fucked. He can’t do it anymore. At night it’s so much easier, but in the daylight streaming through some door-less apartments, the friendly expression being offered to him is inescapable. 

He just can’t do it anymore.

“Well, Hyunjin, does anyone in your group need first aid? One of my friends is an ex-nursing student, I think some medical supplies is a good trade for-”

“I don’t have a group,” Hyunjin cuts him off bitterly. 

Fuck, if it had been half a year ago, he would’ve jumped at the chance to get an ex-nurse’s help. It’s useless, now. Absolutely fucking useless. He doesn’t even deserve it, not by a long shot. 

“You should leave.”

“Oh, I-” Hyunjin doesn’t need to see his face. “...Wait, there’s been two dead groups here in the last week. In this area. And you’re alone here.”

“Yeah.”

“In an apartment with a multiple guns.”

“Mhm.”

“And you want me to leave.”

“Sure.”

“Can I ask how much food is in that apartment?”

Hyunjin grits his teeth. He knows the moment he moves, he’s shooting Changbin in the foot and then the head. He should have just done it the moment he’d put his hands up to reassure Hyunjin he was safe. But he couldn’t, and he doesn’t think he even can, the more he considers it. Why has he been so fucking weak, all of a sudden?

“Almost enough to get me through all of winter,” he admits. What purpose would he have to lie, at this point? “Do you _need_ to ask so many questions?”

Changbin unholsters his own gun and points it at Hyunjin, and he doesn’t even retaliate by raising his own. Just keeps his eyes on the ground, an old raggedy carpet that hasn’t been vacuumed in forever. At least he dies from a person who will benefit from his stash and his weapons, and not helplessly on the pavement outside a gas station. At least it’s of his own volition and unwillingness to fight back, and not the humiliation of being overpowered after so long.

“Look, before you shoot, can I ask a favour since you owe me?” he chuckles dryly. Changbin hums, and he takes that as his go-ahead. “There’s… a group. I’m pretty sure they’re all still alive. Four guys, the leader’s name is Bang Chan but there’s also Minho, Felix, and Jeongin. You can’t really miss them, Chan and Felix are super friendly but Minho and Jeongin would stab whoever looks at them wrong. Anyways, if you ever meet them--Felix has really cute freckles, can’t miss ‘em--tell them…. Just... Say I miss them a lot and just say I died by a horde or something. Or the truth, I don’t fucking care.”

“...Wait, are you not…?”

“No, I _am_ ... I’m just... tired.” He laughs. He’s crying yet again. When he drops his gun, Changbin flinches and inhales sharply. What’s it like, knowing you’ve got a murderer with a bounty over his head at your mercy, and he turns out to be a pathetic, bordering-on-suicidal dumpster fire? “I killed a group a few days ago and I just--they were so fucking _nice_ to me. They _fed_ me. One of them held me when I cried and I just, I fucking bashed his head in with a _gas bottle_. Even though he was so nice. Fuck, I can’t do this anymore-”

“-Okay, okay… Calm down…” Changbin shushes him. When Hyunjin looks up, he sees greasy hair sparkling in an isolated stream of sunlight, bouncing off of sweat-soaked skin. Something that back in time would be considered gross, but now is a telltale sign of life and humanity. Interesting, how the world shifts, and how Hyunjin had his part to play in it, at least in this tiny little sector of the Earth. “Do you just need help finding your group, or…?”

“I don’t even know if they’ll want me anymore when they realize I’ve been the one butchering people,” Hyunjin chuckles again, choking off at the end. Chan has always been a pacifist, generally, and Felix is squeamish and emotional. There’s… there’s just no way he’ll be accepted again. They won’t recognize who he is anymore. “I don’t even know why I took it this far, I just, fuck--kill me. Just fucking kill me. You know what? I don’t care anymore-”

Changbin blinks at him, mouth agape, and Hyunjin sees it. Again. Second time this week. 

The slight blush, the hesitation. And he knows exactly what’s going through Changbin’s mind. Pity. Attraction. Guilt. Uncertainty. He’s not going to die at this person’s hand, he realizes. His plea for death ended up guilt-tripping his one-way ticket into keeping him alive.

“Hey, look, do you just want to find your group? I’ll help you,” Changbin says, walking forward and kneeling down in front of Hyunjin. He’s smart, though, and doesn’t take his gun off safety. Keeps his hand near the trigger. “Because I owe you.”

“I’d rather you kill me,” Hyunjin laughs with salty tears leaking into the corners of his mouth. “And then tell them. Give- I have this bag, it’s embroidered, give it to them with my knife and they’ll probably believe them. And tell them I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise-”

“You’re really not what I expected a famous killer to be like,” Changbin blurts out. It sends Hyunjin into a weird fit of sobs and laughter that has him choking, losing focus and yet still wondering why the fuck he hasn’t been shot yet.

“Surprise?”

“Yeah, okay, get up,” Changbin huffs. Suddenly there’s a tight grip on Hyunjin’s bicep, and he’s tugged upward onto his feet again. He barely remembers to grab his gun as he’s lifted, and oddly enough, Changbin doesn’t stop him from clutching it. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You either die, or I bring my group here, and we look for yours together.”

“And you’re going to trust that I’m not going to slaughter you all?”

Changbin raises an eyebrow at him, making him self-conscious of the mess of sweat, tears, and snot that’s starting to dry despite their constant flow. There’s nothing cunning or Machiavellian about him besides the persona he uses. Somehow, he feels stripped back to the cardigan-wearing, giggling university boy he was. Maybe it’s because Changbin feels like Chan and Hyunjin would never be this emotionally vulnerable to anyone but his group.

Instead of talking, Changbin pulls a bandana from one of his jean pockets and wipes down Hyunjin’s face with it. And if he closes his eyes, he can imagine it’s the time Minho was cleaning a cut from his cheek. In front of a fire, with Chan softly singing the two youngest boys to sleep. Back when it was the beginning and they were all terrified, but determined. 

It only makes him cry more. To Changbin’s credit, he just continues to wipe it all away. Until he’s sitting Hyunjin down against the hallway wall, until the lonely prince reduces from his boiling point to a simmer. Dry, quiet blubbering. His face feels like a swollen bee sting.

“Do you want to kill me?” Changbin asks softly. 

Hyunjin doesn’t have it in him to cry more, all dried up. He just shakes his head, almost violently. “No- fuck- I don’t want to do this anymore-”

“Then you’re going to come with me.” Changbin cups his hands under Hyunjin’s chin to lift his head up. When they make eye contact, Hyunjin doesn’t see attraction--he sees mercy. “I’m going to introduce you to my friends, then you’re going to help us bring our supplies over here. And in exchange for splitting your food with us, we’ll help you track down your friends. Okay?”

“What do I get for you owing me?” Hyunjin asks. A genuine question--even though it makes him feel like a dick asking it. 

Changbin just smiles as he brings Hyunjin to his feet again, wrapping gentle fingers around his wrist to lead him down the hallway. “I’ll let you think about what you want for that.”

And for once, Hyunjin’s the one that blushes.

▬▬

**Author's Note:**

> Hyunjin: "I have killed dozens of people in groups"  
> Changbin: "Awe :((((( Anyways, wanna join my group?"
> 
> According to legend, that day, Seungmin stabbed Changbin 27 times with a thumb tack.
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos if you like it!  
> And comments are always appreciated :))


End file.
